Emergency Landing on Sandbar — West of Boston Near Amherst

I grew up in Amherst. I think that sandbar is up at the north end of the Quabbin, nearer Orange, or everybody's favorite town Athol.

The Quabbin is a pretty cool thing. Built to provide water for Boston, they flooded several valleys, including the town that were in them. There's places where roads just lead to the edge of the water and disappear. Whole houses (probably just foundations now) are on the lake bottom. There's been a few plane crashes into the reservoir over the years, but the craziest one was a F94-B that crashed in the winter of 1955. The pilot punched out and heard the plane impact what he thought was ice. They couldn't find the wreckage so they just assumed it has sunk to the bottom of the lake. Years later some hikers found the crash site in the woods.
 
If he didn't have an emergency, nothing in the regs say you have to land at an airport.

State, county, local ordinances may prevent off-airport fun though.
 
If he didn't have an emergency, nothing in the regs say you have to land at an airport.

State, county, local ordinances may prevent off-airport fun though.

And an emergency won't absolve someone of legal problems either. Had a flight instructor tell me about a guy in a Bonanza who did an emergency landing on a road, who got a ticket for having a vehicle without valid registration for said road.
 
I, too, grew up in the shadow of Quabbin Reservoir, and family picnics surrounding the water are a fond memory. Never saw a plane except in the sky.

The Congregational Church from the now-submerged town of Prescott was purchased by wealthy industrialist Joseph Allen Skinner, and re-built near his home in South Hadley, MA. It and a couple of other buildings house Skinner's collection of, uh, stuff. Over 7,000 objects ranging from 18th and 19th century firearms, large models of ships carved from Ivory, stage-coaches, a meteorite, and anything else that caught his wealthy fancy. No airplanes. As a child, it was pretty much wide open and I could play in and around the museum buildings and grounds. He willed it to Mount Holyoke College in 1946 and it is open to the public. Regular warm-weather hours Wed & Sat, and heating-season (there isn't much) by appointment.

Information at: https://artmuseum.mtholyoke.edu/collection/joseph-allen-skinner-museum?bc=node/428
 
I, too, grew up in the shadow of Quabbin Reservoir, and family picnics surrounding the water are a fond memory. Never saw a plane except in the sky.

The Congregational Church from the now-submerged town of Prescott was purchased by wealthy industrialist Joseph Allen Skinner, and re-built near his home in South Hadley, MA. It and a couple of other buildings house Skinner's collection of, uh, stuff. Over 7,000 objects ranging from 18th and 19th century firearms, large models of ships carved from Ivory, stage-coaches, a meteorite, and anything else that caught his wealthy fancy. No airplanes. As a child, it was pretty much wide open and I could play in and around the museum buildings and grounds. He willed it to Mount Holyoke College in 1946 and it is open to the public. Regular warm-weather hours Wed & Sat, and heating-season (there isn't much) by appointment.

Information at: https://artmuseum.mtholyoke.edu/collection/joseph-allen-skinner-museum?bc=node/428

You know, despite spending 18 years living within 5 miles of that place, I never went inside.

Picnics at the Quabbin Lookout tower were awesome. That and rolling down the dikes.
 
You know, despite spending 18 years living within 5 miles of that place, I never went inside....

It's easier if you can ride your bike across the street! I suppose part of the allure was that it was wide open with no supervision, just a child's curiosity and eagerness to explore. Plus Skinner collected the damndest stuff. Both that place (the museum-keeper's house) and my home across the street were stations on the Underground Railway for escaped slaves. I kept trying to find the tunnel in the basement that connected the two, but I guess they were both just hidey-holes.

Of course, there are places in Amherst I never got to, either.
 
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